My husband and my sons have long, intricate conversations about farts. I listen to them in open-mouthed disbelief. "The louder they are, the less they stink," says one, and they all nod. "Remember that time I farted and did a somersault?" and they all laugh.

Lego is the ultimate toy, full of engineer-in-training complexity and bursting with potential creative play - as nutritious for a child's growing mind as milk and kale. Which is a little hard to remember when I'm vacuuming up, tripping over and picking moulded plastic bricks out of pockets and socks.

I knew I was in trouble when my youngest son Ibrahim gave me a hug and a kiss. "It's all right, Mommy." But it wasn't all right. I had landed on Park Place, which had two houses. The landlord (a.k.a. my eleven-year-old son, Mustafa) was demanding payment: $550.

What's this?

The 'Samosas and Maple Syrup' column began running regularly in the Toronto Star in September 2015. However, my very first column appeared earlier, in January 2015 ... when I gave my 7 year old son The Talk.